


All the Bases

by OKami_hu



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Metaphysical Sex, there are no dicks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 18:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20179105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu
Summary: The Nopocalipse wasn't the last obstacle to overcome, but once the pursuers are subdued, it's time to chase after nicer thrills.“We’re starting over? Clean slate and all?”“More like- A second volume,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “We have a history together already, and I’ve cherished every chapter."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kira_K](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kira_K/gifts).

> Dedication #1: to my friend [Kíra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kira_K), whose birthday is in July. Happy belated.
> 
> Dedication #2: to Mr Michael Sheen, because I'm shameless; and I'd like to extend the dedication to all related adventurers, who might come across this.
> 
> Thanks for [uran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uran) for the beta!

Aziraphale spent the night at Crowley’s in the end, because, as the demon regretfully pointed it out, he had nowhere else to go. Even if he didn’t really sleep, he couldn’t just roam the streets or find a 24/7 diner or something to wait until the Sun rose, especially not without a book. And if he wanted to be honest, Heaven probably indeed didn’t care at this point. 

By the time they arrived, there was a couch in a previously empty corner of Crowley’s living room, complete with a stylish coffee table and two glasses, though at least he had the decency to stop to actually buy the alcohol on the way. It was whisky, too. Crowley noted that after thwarting the Armageddon they probably needed something strong.

The single standing lamp that was never there before either cast a warm glow at their corner. The amber liquid shone in the finely cut glasses and it burned just enough to be pleasant without dredging up any images of hellfire or explosions. 

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Crowley muttered into his drink. “If I start thinking about it, I might just panic. Like, it’ll all catch up with me, the terror. I mean, the world got really close to the End.” He shook his head, trying to clear it from the disturbing thoughts that’ve been running around in there for the entire bus ride. 

“You’re right,” Aziraphale nodded. “It’s better not to even think about it. Main thing is, it’s over, Earth is safe, the boy is probably safe, everyone is safe.” He took a sip. “Well, most everyone.” He pressed his lips together with a small, painful frown. “But I still can’t believe- How could they? I always thought we were to serve the universal good and they were ready to let it all go up in flames- Just to… settle a petty argument!”

“Well, yeah, at least you can expect that from demons,” Crowley reluctantly agreed. He could clearly see how upset it made Aziraphale. “Who knew. I’m- sorry. You tried so hard to do good and-” he made a vague gesture. 

“I was blind,” Aziraphale muttered, playing with his now empty glass. “I should have- I’m such a fool, Crowley. Been one all my life. All these six thousand years.” He glanced at the demon.

“Don’t drag yourself like that,” Crowley reached out though his fingertip barely brushed the angel’s arm. “You were actually really clever out there. I’d have never thought of considering that the Great Plan and the Ineffable Plan aren’t the same. You-” he pointed at Aziraphale, brows raised above his shades, “You did save the day. Nice job.”

“Oh Crowley!” The angel jumped up and began to pace. “It’s not just that, forget about today afternoon! You did your best too, so did the boy and I… I’m still disappointed and hurt and angry and ashamed… Of myself, mostly.” He stopped, chewing on his lower lip with a miserable expression. “I owe you an apology. Or several.”

“We do have time,” Crowley pointed out but the expression on his face was more of a half-smile than a grin.

“You were right,” Aziraphale moaned, curling his arms around himself. “You were right about everything, like Heaven not giving a damn, and you tried to save me and I was so mean to you! I told you we’re not friends… And I threatened you with cutting you off. I really shouldn’t have. I used you and I’m so sorry!”

Crowley, by this time, has slipped to the edge of the couch, elbows propped on his knees, chin resting on his laced fingers and his eyebrows taking up permanent residence near his hairline. He was certainly not expecting anything like this, ever, to be honest, and if the apology went into the direction he feverishly hoped it would, then he was very eager and ready to absorb every single word. 

He also tried to not get his hopes up _too_ much, because this was Aziraphale, his friend of six thousand years, who _was_ a little blind even to the most obvious things.

Aziraphale continued pacing, not looking directly at Crowley, though he timidly glanced at the demon from time to time. 

“All these centuries, you’ve been nothing but- forgive me for saying, but kind and supportive. You always came for me when I got myself into trouble and you always helped me out… I’ve never truly expressed just how much that meant to me.” Aziraphale was now fidgeting nervously. 

“I have talked to Gabriel several times and he made it clear that there will be no effort to stop the war and I still tried to appeal to them. I was trying so hard that I was ready to throw our friendship away! When I said I didn’t like you or that we’re through or that- I’d never talk to you again, it was all a lie.” Aziraphale stopped, staring into nothing, a faint blush upon his cheeks. “I… really wouldn’t want to live anywhere where you can’t talk to me.”

Crowley’s mouth was open, as well as his eyes behind the shades. He hasn't blinked once since Aziraphale started talking. “Go on…” he encouraged. His hopes decided not to give a damn about his intentions and were on the rise.

He could always get drunk later if they were false. 

“I have been so blind…!” Aziraphale spat bitterly. “I’m a fool, so stupid and ignorant! It took me too long to realize… that you.... think of me as… more than a friend.”

One of Crowley’s elbows slipped and he stumbled forward; thankfully the angel had turned his back to him, so he could scramble up, sitting straight and experiencing all sort of distress signals a corporeal form was able to produce.

“Wha-?” he managed to sputter. “Who? Me? You? Uh.”

“I’m so sorry, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured. “I should have noticed it way sooner. And I should not have tried to deny my own feelings for so long, either. But I was-!” He sighed, shoulders sagging. “I was a coward. I tried so desperately to do the right thing, the good thing that I deluded myself into thinking that admitting it would be… wrong. I’m so sorry. I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me.” 

He lowered his face into his hands and took a shaky breath. There, he said it. And oddly enough, it made him feel a little better. He had been dragging the weight of it for about sixty years now; he tried hard to shove it into the back of his mind and even managed to not think about it for long periods, months, years, but sometimes, when the mortal world experienced a surge in love - midwinter, or later, almost on the verge of spring - the disturbing thoughts came back to haunt him. 

Was it a sin for an angel to love a demon? Did it matter anymore?

He twitched when a thin pair of arms wound around his midsection and Crowley buried his nose into his beloved coat’s collar. 

“I should have said it myself, maybe,” the demon murmured. “But I wasn’t that brave, either. And it’s silly, me, and an angel? Pfft, perish the thought! And… I didn’t want to scare you, I scare you enough. Think we can be both braver now than we were when facing Armageddon?”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, took a deep breath and nodded. “I love you.”

“I know you do,” Crowley breathed. “And you know I do, too. You told me many times, without meaning to.”

“But I was scared-”

“Happens,” Crowley tightened his hold a little. “It’s okay. I’m a rather patient creature.” He fell silent for a while, then sighed. “You’re warm.”

“Oh! Yes, while we’re at it, there’s something else we need to discuss-” Aziraphale said quickly, actually debating whether to pry Crowley’s arms off or not. Eventually, he eased them off of himself, though not entirely, and turned, placing his hands on the demon’s chest and looking straight into his eyes.

“Something happened and I kept thinking about it all the way here. Crowley- Do you think that our sides-” he rolled his eyes. “Do you think they’d plan a retribution? On us? I mean, we really threw a wrench into their plans, so-”

For once, Crowley’s decently nimble mind was experiencing a bit of a lag. The topic change was a little sudden, so for several seconds he just gaped at his angel before actually mulling over the question. 

“Ah.” He squinted. “Well, I did kill a demon, screwed Hastur over and made Beelzebub loose face, soo- I think down there they are quite pissed at me and _might _just like to see me getting slowly and painfully discorporated first. _And_ keep going after that. So, yeah, I think at least in my case, it’s a definite possibility.”

A rather dreadful possibility. Crowley had to swallow. He didn’t fear many things but getting tortured to complete destruction, now that it became an option, proved to be a terrifying concept. Especially considering the very recent turn of events.

“Gabriel seemed really angry, too,” Aziraphale remarked. “It shouldn’t be a death sentence, maybe exile or something but… after all this? I’m not sure they wouldn’t like to see me burn.” He looked up again. 

“When you tossed the book to the young lady- The Prophecies- a piece of paper fell out and it got me thinking, the words on it. I mean, Agnes Nutter was a true prophet, her words were remarkably correct, so we should consider them.”

“What did it say?” Crowley was willing to try anything if it meant keeping Aziraphale from harm. 

“Ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enouff you will be playing with fyre,” Aziraphale quoted. ‘Playing with fire’ means to be in danger, so it made me worried that they’d come for us- And if you take it literally, as actual fire, well, the hellish version can destroy angels.”

“And demons will withstand everything aside holy water, it burns them like acid…” Crowley drawled.

They stared at each other.

“We should switch places,” Crowley summed up, voice hushed.

“If we play it right, they won’t notice,” Aziraphale nodded. “The question is, when will they act?”

“Hopefully not tonight.” Crowley twitched. “Probably not, they must have their hands full. I bet the legions are quite disappointed on both sides. Should take a while to calm them.”

“But start morning, it’ll be on. We need to be careful and alert. If one of us tips them off, it’s over. They’ll find us no matter where we go.” Aziraphale flashed a sad little smile at Crowley. “I’m afraid even Alpha Centauri isn’t far enough.”

Crowley huffed a laugh. “Would’ve been neat though,” he pointed out. “If it came to that. But now that we’ve still got our classical music and sushi restaurants and- everything, I’m actually keen on staying here.” He sneaked his arms around the angel’s waist again. 

“In relation to all the lovely things that are ours, now that we have a plan and possibly not much time until we become hunted creatures, can we perhaps go back to that part when you admitted that you _really liked_ me-?”

Aziraphale blushed. “We need to focus!” he protested half-heartedly, wiggling just a little but not actually trying to get away. “Do you think you’ll be able to act like me?”

“Ooh, angel, seriously? I have watched you for six millennia, you’re not that hard to figure out. Being good isn’t that difficult. Now, on the other hand- evil is something that doesn’t come easily to certain people.”

“I’ll be okay,” Aziraphale said determinedly. “I’ve got this. I can do it.”

“I know you can,” Crowley smiled. “It’s going to be interesting. Though…” He tipped his head to the side. “There are certain ways to get to know each other even better-”

It took several moments for the penny to drop, but when it did, Aziraphale blushed even deeper. “Crowley!”

“Am I too fast, angel?” Crowley purred with a wicked grin.

“Well I- ah. Bollocks.” Aziraphale’s forehead knocked against the demon’s collarbone. “It’s been thirty years at least and I’m still stalling, I don’t know why you put up with me-”

“Sshh.” Crowley gently tipped the angel’s chin up. “We’re in no hurry. Even if something goes wrong… and this was our last opportunity, I wouldn't want you to feel forced. That’d be too low, even for me. It’s fine. I’ll wait until you’re ready. And if you never feel like it, that’s fine too.”

Aziraphale reached up and cupped Crowley’s face. This was basically the first time they’ve really touched, apart from brief instances when their fingers accidentally brushed. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Crowley used the opportunity and turned his head to kiss Aziraphale’s palm, and he was delighted to feel his angel shiver. He leaned closer, his lips an inch shy from Aziraphale’s, so he could refuse or take the offer, if he wanted to. 

Aziraphale decided that he very much wanted to. 

It was awkward and clumsy at first, because while he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with the mechanics, Aziraphale have never initiated a kiss. Crowley on the other hand had done some serious tempting in his days, and sometimes he had to pass the time with something other than drinking, so he definitely had more experience. 

Still, he was gentle and patient to an extent no demon should have had the right to be, but he was smart and knew well that his angel only needed a little time and practice. 

The practice went on for the remainder of the night until morning’s pale light began to brighten the apartment. Aziraphale indeed got the hang of it and found the act rather pleasant. So pleasant in fact that at one point he straddled Crowley’s lap, sank his fingers into the red hair and nibbled on the demon’s lips until Crowley began to make the most endearing needy noises. Then the tables turned and Aziraphale was pinned to the couch with Crowley on top, yielding to him willingly. 

Then they just sat really close to each other, resting their heads on the dark leather and stealing little pecks as the minutes ticked by, until their thirst rose again and the kisses turned feverish and raw with teeth and tongue and not enough oxygen. 

Crowley also got the brilliant idea of trying to let Aziraphale drink from his mouth - which went spectacularly wrong, with much sputtering, coughing, giggling and many more whisky-flavored kisses. 

Then the morning inevitably came and they chose their faces. Crowley headed off to check on the bookshop’s remains and Aziraphale went on his way to pass the day somehow.

***

The plan worked surprisingly well. There were difficult moments for both of them, where they nearly broke character but they held their ground and it was a delight to witness the terror in the lines of both Heaven and Hell. After such a spectacular show they were bound to be left alone, at least for a while - a long while - so Aziraphale and Crowley decided to take the day off, to dine at the Ritz. 

They walked around London after that, locked in light conversation or comfortable silence, strolling along old streets, through parks, on the banks of the Thames, recalling a memory here and there, laughing and smiling. Sometimes their fingers brushed as they walked just a little too close and neither of them made an effort to put more distance between them. 

Late in the night Crowley drove Aziraphale home and discreetly marveled at the look of awe and joy on the angel’s face as he beheld his beloved bookshop. Aziraphale then glanced at Crowley, blushed a little and leaned closer for a long, slow kiss worthy of some romantic movie which was frankly ridiculous and Crowley surely would’ve made a jab about it hadn’t it been so achingly sweet and absolutely delicious.

Then Aziraphale said goodbye, politely thanked for the ride, got out of the Bentley and disappeared behind the shop’s door. 

Crowley drove home, burrowed under three blankets and slept for a week. (Though he got up on Thursday, to water the plants. He was a strict owner, not a foolish one.)

***

He woke in the middle of Sunday morning to the ringing of his phone. He hissed at it out of habit, then realized who the caller was and immediately picked up. 

“Aziraphale? What’s up?”

“I, um.” The angel sounded a little unsure but otherwise fine. “Hello, Crowley. I was just wondering what you were up to. I haven’t seen you all week, and I got a little… worried.”

“Ah- Oh, sorry, yeah, I was- I was just sleeping. I’m fine.”

“Oh, deary me, have I woken you up?”

“Technically yes, but you’re worth waking up for.”

“Flatterer,” Aziraphale smiled into the phone after a surprised little pause. “I’m glad you’re well. And- I was wondering if perhaps you’d be up for dinner sometime? I- I missed you.”

Crowley sat up ramrod straight on the bed. “Sure, dinner sounds fabulous! How about today? I happen to be free.”

“Splendid! I thought we could try something a bit unusual, something more spicy? There’s this place, they say their curry is quite delicious.”

“Spiiicy,” Crowley grinned. “I do like the sound of that! Pick you up at eight?” 

“Thank you. There’s also a discreet bar nearby, to satisfy your liquid dietary needs.”

Crowley laughed. “Ever the thoughtful one, aren’t you, angel? See you at eight!”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Aziraphale put the receiver down and began to worry his teeth over his finely manicured nails. Then he realized what he was doing and huffed. He wasn’t going to behave like this any longer!

Crowley’s week-long absence, in fact, was a blessing. Aziraphale had the time to think, over the sound of old records, classical symphonies, timeless and grandiose. He knew he had to come to terms with his feelings; he decided to be selfish and embrace this affection for his old grouchy friend and most beloved enemy. 

First of all, was Crowley an enemy still? Had he not proven himself enough times, had they not stood together facing the literal worst? Were they still on any side aside theirs, after their sides attempted to murder them because they refused to partake in senseless violence?

It scared Aziraphale to think that he might have been bad. He spent his entire existence, from the very first moment loving the Almighty, with all of his heart. He sought Her approval like a child, and the possibility that the Almighty was angry with him was terrifying. What if She disapproved of Her angel loving another, let alone a demon, who She cast from Heaven?

But She didn’t seem to be angry. Every day Aziraphale stepped out into the Sun’s light, felt its warmth upon his face; his favorite food tasted just as great and whenever he thought of Crowley, his heart swelled in his chest. 

He found himself on his knees every evening, hands clasped in prayer like those beautiful mortals he so loved to gaze upon all through the ages as they prayed to the Lord with their hearts open and their devotion glimmering around them like a halo, faces upturned, radiant. Aziraphale thanked for all the blessings he had been graced with, his power and purpose, the Almighty’s love and most of all, Crowley’s presence. God could have cast him out if he had transgressed but She didn’t, and the world was still there in all its glory and the humans in it, and Aziraphale also feverishly hoped that their calculations weren’t off and Crowley was also still part of the Universe in his ridiculously good-looking human form because _Heaven help me_, Aziraphale‘s insides began to quiver whenever he thought of those swinging hips and graceful limbs.

Angels were creatures of love, Aziraphale mused, then corrected himself: he was a creature of love. He loved unconditionally, the Almighty, humanity with all its flaws, his fellow angels, no matter how they behaved - it wasn’t a stretch, really, that he could also love a demon, who, coincidentally, had enough love in his heart for a great many things, a dumb little angel included. Love was never a sin. Love was pure, one of the fundamental forces of the Universe. 

That realization pretty much brought the next answer with it: namely, that no, sex wasn’t bad, either. It could be done badly of course, but when two people were in love, then sex was nothing but a simple gift to each other. Some didn’t even need it, and some could never get enough, but the same was also true for chocolate. It was clear that Crowley wanted sex but he also made it clear that their love did not depend on this particular gift; Aziraphale was free to give it, take it or decline it. 

Aziraphale got a little confused at that point because the thought of sex made him embarrassed, where it really shouldn’t have; and eventually realized that apparently, spending most of his time in human society affected him more than he thought. The uncertainty he felt was nothing but a reverberating echo of what he used to hear through the centuries, from humans who claimed to know the Almighty’s intentions. Which was, of course, bullshit. 

There was nothing wrong about wanting to touch and taste and join bodies in consent, neither was it sinful to think about it, wondering what would be best or how it would feel; whether keen snake eyes would close or open wide at the peak of pleasure. Aziraphale simply never felt the burning need to share his human body with others, no one captured his interest that way. But ever since that dreary night when he sought Crowley out with a tartan thermos that had the potential to become a deadly weapon, the thought had been there.

It’s not that Crowley explicitly offered. He just very politely suggested it, like every sly look, every swing of his hips, every instance of passing anger suggested it, and Aziraphale did take notice of it, but at the time he was simply too afraid of What Others Would Say.

Now, no one had the right to say anything anymore, aside God Herself, and She didn’t seem to disapprove, so Aziraphale let the thought jog around in his mind in slow, deliberate circles and after every round the idea felt more appealing and a lot less upsetting. Crowley probably loved sex and he was ready to offer it, and if he wanted to be completely frank, Aziraphale’s curiosity was piqued. He had read his fair share of dirty books, and if only half of them were true, then there was this vast, exciting new territory to discover and alongside an eager guide to boot. 

Aziraphale did not lie when he said he missed Crowley. He just didn’t add that now he also _desired_ him.

****

The curry was hot and made with care by someone who loved their job - Aziraphale could always tell that. Even Crowley had a bite or two; he was reluctant to sample the dish, but he eventually relented to Aziraphale’s gentle insistence. He even admitted that it wasn’t half bad. 

The drinks after did nothing to soothe the fire. Suddenly, Aziraphale was keenly aware of his friend’s eyes on him and as an apology for lost time, he pulled Crowley close for a kiss once they sat in the Bentley. Crowley had no objections whatsoever, and they only stopped once Aziraphale realized that the car was moving.

“Eyes on the road!” he yelped in panic but Crowley just tsked. “Leave it to me. I’m not going to hit anyone. Or anything.” He licked his lips. “Discorporating would just complicate things, and I really don’t need that right now.” He wrenched Aziraphale closer and the kissing commenced for another ten minutes. 

The Bentley obediently circled the same block the whole time, just below the speed limit.

Once he was let go, Aziraphale leaned back, out of reach. “Would you mind terribly if I spent the night at your place?”

Crowley gaped. “No? I wouldn’t mind it at all but- you always liked the bookshop more than anywhere, and-”

“I don’t have a bed yet,” Aziraphale pointed out with a sweet smile. “You do.”

Crowley stared ahead, hands firmly on the steering wheel. “Are you, perchance, implying that you’d like to spend the night _in my bed_?”

“Precisely,” Aziraphale confirmed. He placed a hand on Crowley’s thigh and a delightful little shock raced through him when the demon swallowed.

“_Mi casa es su casa_, angel, but- are you sure?”

“Yes. I thought about it. I apologize for my indecisiveness from before. I was… preoccupied, but I had time to sort everything out. In fact… I’m curious. I’ve read a lot about the physical aspects of love and I have a few questions, and I’m positive you’ll be able to enlighten me.”

“Okay,” Crowley rolled his neck. “I can do that, I just- wasn’t expecting you to surrender to my devilish allure so soon.”

“It’s been a week,” Aziaphale reminded him. “Why were you sleeping, anyway? I just confessed and you decided to disappear for a week.”

Crowley pouted. Aziraphale fought off the need to kiss him again.

“I expected more than a ‘goodnight’ and I had to put myself to rest,” the demon finally admitted. 

“You have me now,” Aziraphale assured him warmly. “My apologies. Think of how I could make it up to you.”

“Well. There was a thing, y’know- Since you seemed to be so skittish, I figured something out to put your mind at ease, but after your sudden enlightenment it doesn’t seem necessary…. But I was kinda proud of the idea.”

“Please do tell.”

“Uh, since this sex business is rather messy and frantic and can be confusing if you don’t know- I have no idea why I assumed that you’re not as well-read on it as you are on anything, really... Anyway, It’s pretty good, trust me but there’s this- expression, in America. First base, second base.”

Aziraphale frowned. “I’m not sure I’m following?”

“It’s baseball, angel,” Crowley gestured. “They use these baseball terms to describe the progress. First base is kissing - we’re past that already - second base is pawing around above the waist, third base is hands below the waist and a home run is actual sex.”

“Sounds like an apt metaphor,” Aziraphale said, still a little uncertain. 

“So I was thinking, we could touch second base and some of the third in a genderless form. No dangly bits to be concerned about, just- touching. Lots of touching. And a lot more kissing.”

“A genderless form-” Aziraphale murmured and suddenly, it dawned on him. They were both essentially genderless, being angels - regardless of Crowley’s fallen status. Aziraphale simply chose a male shape because it seemed more appealing to him and a little more convenient; he secretly always admired Crowley for freely changing his appearance. The female form, with its capability to create life held tremendous power not meant to be wielded by the faint of heart.

What he proposed was setting aside all of human society’s expectations, going back to their original selves, like back in the first days. 

It was quite romantic. Aziraphale could see the merit in it. He folded his hands in his lap and nodded brightly.

“I’d be glad to follow your plan. Drive us home.”

“Home.” Crowley grinned. “By the way, you can put your hand back where it was.”


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they reached the apartment, Crowley was _vibrating_ from the suppressed tension. He played it cool, of course, but Aziraphale’s hand on his denim-clad thigh felt scorching hot as it moved in soothing circles, later squeezing gently, the fingertips ghosting over the sensitive inner side. The only reason why Crowley wasn’t dealing with a massive hard-on was that he decided to forgo the dangly bits as soon as his angel touched him. 

But the lack of genitalia didn’t mean the lack of arousal. 

Oddly enough, something strikingly similar to an orgasm wasn’t an unknown phenomenon in Heaven, but it was still vastly different. Most angels (and later, some really dedicated humans) experienced a kind of ecstasy, especially when the Almighty graced them with Her praise but it was purely spiritual - a pride that stayed humble, a love that remained selfless, a joy that overflowed beyond the point of tears. Crowley himself had felt it, after a particularly well-done nebula’s completion; Her contented love’s warm waves washed over him and two other angels had to accompany him for a while because he couldn’t tell left from right - or whatever directions were available at the time.

Experiencing physical pleasure after that sure was a surprise. He was still relatively new to the whole human body business and was hanging out in Gomorrah, when the city was just toeing the slippery slope; Crowley was supposed to give a few gentle prods now and then. The wine was rather nice that year and one of the girls in the tavern began batting her eyelashes at him. Crowley thought, why the Hell not. 

It definitely was an experience. A surprisingly pleasant one. 

Crowley got admittedly a little carried away after that, and it might have actually contributed to the accumulation of sin in the area. He was willing to try anything, the female form among others and eventually felt a slight pang of guilt when it all went up in flames. 

He really took to being a girl for a good while after that; it was ridiculously easy to tempt people with a wink and a smile and Crowley genuinely enjoyed both the attention and the squabbles that inevitably followed. Then it all soured when someone took the squabble to the next level and killed for Crowley’s affection. It just… left him feeling a little nauseous and from that time on he began tending towards a more masculine appearance. 

It’s been a long time, however, even barring the days spent as a nanny; the world seemed to be faring well, Aziraphale was within arm’s reach and as Crowley opened the door, a few ideas and possibilities surfaced in his mind, which were filed away for later use. He had to concentrate. He had a plan here. 

Aziraphale’s hand gently settled on the small of his back and Crowley swallowed.

“Care for a drink?” he asked casually as they entered and blinked in surprise when Aziraphale shook his head. 

“I don’t want to get drunk. If- it’s all the same to you, I’d like to-” he made a soft gesture, “begin with the baseball metaphors.”

“Wow.” Crowley took his shades off and placed them aside. “Someone has worked up quite a courage in my absence. What happened, really?”

“Nothing much,” Aziraphale stepped closer and shyly placed his hands on the demon’s waist. “I’ve just done a little… soul-searching, if you will. And I realized that whatever bothered me was insignificant. Sex is not a sin and to love another isn’t, either.” He looked up. “I love you.”

“I know,” Crowley replied and he couldn’t keep from grinning.

“What,” Aziraphale asked, a little suspicious. 

Crowley chuckled, relaxing a little. “It’s what they call a ‘pop-culture reference’. Y’know, from Star Wars?”

“Is that- a movie…?”

Crowley stared. “You haven’t seen Star Wars. Angel, I know you watch TV, how did you never watch Star Wars??” 

“We can watch together?” Aziraphale offered, hoping to defuse the situation. 

Crowley huffed. “We’ll have to. All of it.” He leaned closer and sighed. “You’re ridiculous. But you’re mine.” He sealed the confession with a kiss. Then another, then a third and Aziraphale slid his arms around Crowley’s shoulders to keep him close.

After about a dozen kisses, the mood got heated with Crowley nibbling on his angel’s lips and Aziraphale playfully tugged on the red tresses. 

“Bed. Baseball. Whatever, but I’d like to go further.”

“Right. Sorry.” Crowley swallowed again - the fingers tightening in his hair did nice things to his insides and he hoped Aziraphale was going to do it again. 

The bedroom was spartan; aside the double bed, the only other furniture was a clothes rack with a few hangers that definitely wasn’t there before, since Crowly had no use for it whatsoever. Aziraphale smiled. 

“How thoughtful of you!”

“Eeh. I know you’re fond of your old things,” Crowley murmured and slid the coat from Aziraphale’s shoulders. The angel began loosening his tie but stopped with a shiver when the demon began nuzzling his nape.

“Crowley-”

“Don’t mind me,” the demon murmured. “Just keeping myself occupied.” The tip of his nose brushed against the soft fair curls and his tongue flickered out to taste. Much to his delight, Aziraphale tilted his head to the side and moaned.

“Keep undressing,” Crowley encouraged. “I’ll help.”

The tie, waistcoat and shirt all came off and probably by a miracle, they ended up on the rack. Crowley seemed ravenous, devouring Aziraphale’s neck, leaving quickly fading marks, and the angel turned around to press his body against the demon’s. Crowley’s hands roamed, greedily mapping out every inch of milky skin and the somewhat surprising muscle mass underneath.

“Crowley-” Aziraphale panted, which was unnecessary, since he didn’t need air, but it just felt so damn appropriate. “Crowley, stop-”

The kisses immediately ceased and Crowley waited. 

“It’s fine but would you mind waiting on the bed, dear?” Aziraphale smiled. “I fear we’ll never get there if we keep this up, and may I remind you that you’re still fully dressed?”

“I can help that,” Crowley grinned, backing away towards the bed. His clothes turned into smoke and dissipated, leaving him naked by the time he settled down.

“Showoff,” Aziraphale mumbled as he fought with his trousers - the stunt was distracting. But now free of the demonic temptation, he could focus. Pants, socks and shoes were shed and neatly placed aside, dangly bits dismissed and Aziraphale finally joined Crowley on the top of the covers. 

“Finally. I was about to discorporate,” the demon grouched, but was quickly appeased by a few kisses and fingers sliding through his hair. 

“I thought of something, too,” Aziraphale said shyly. “Since this is the beginning- Our new beginning, would it be alright to take on our original forms?”

“Six pairs of wings and a hundred eyes-?” Crowley cocked a brow.

“Alright, not _those_ original forms,” Aziraphale amended. “But when we met- in the Garden. Your hair was longer. And we had wings, one pair.”

Crowley threaded his fingers through his red tresses and they lengthened and curled into soft waves. His wings also manifested, covered in black velvety feathers that could have used a little grooming. 

“You don’t take care of your wings,” Aziraphale scolded. Crowley snorted. 

“It’s bloody difficult to get it right. I have no idea how you keep yours so neat.” He traced a careful fingertip over the white edge. “You can do it later, if it bothers you that much.”

"I’d be delighted!”

“I bet.” Crowley shook his wings a little. “Alright, we’re all prepped- Like in the beginning.” He smiled. “We’re starting over? Clean slate and all?”

“More like- A second volume,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “We have a history together already, and I’ve cherished every chapter. Even those in which you were annoying the daylight out of me.”

“My favorite parts were when you got yourself in trouble and I had to swoop in,” Crowley countered.

“Like in ‘41,” Aziraphale whispered fondly. “That was when I fell for you. I mean, I did consider you a dear friend by that time, but when you saved the books, it just- It was like a punch in the gut, only a lot more pleasant.”

“Nrgh,” Crowley shrugged, rolling his eyes. “That was all? Should’ve done it sooner, it really was nothing. You’re so easy.”

Aziraphale lowered his head a little, then placed a hand on Crowley’s chest. “When did you fall in love with me...?”

Crowley sighed. “On the wall.”

“China…?”

“Eden.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “That- That long? You just saw me and-”

“Actually,” Crowley cut in, “when you said you gave the sword away. That was the cue. I thought to myself, ‘This one’s more interesting than the rest’.”

“You’ve waited for so long!” Aziraphale lunged at the demon, tackling him back in the process. “For so long! It must have been torture! I need to make it up for all that time!”

“Okay, okay, sstop that,” Crowly hissed. “You’re killing the mood! I don’t want you to jusst- sspread your legss becausse you think you _owe_ me ssometing!”

“I like when you’re hissing, it’s endearing,” Aziraphale said absentmindedly. “Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I-” he gingerly touched his temple. “I think I just had an epiphany.”

“Uunngh?” Crowley inquired, fighting with his blush at the nonchalant praise.

“It’s- I can’t put it into words just yet. It’s a feeling,” Aziraphale admitted, then he smiled brilliantly, and switched to Enochian, which made Crowley go boneless for some reason.

“Hear me, Crowley, Fallen Star: what I offer is offered freely. I take no burden in sharing myself with you for this is my desire as well. I love you like I love myself; and shall you take me, I will love you for all eternity.”

“Oh,” Crowley swallowed. “I- okay. That was pretty straightforward.”

“Trust me like I trust you,” Aziraphale whispered in common English. “I’ve wanted this for decades now. Maybe even longer, I just didn’t dare to entertain the thought. Please let me love you.”

“That,” Crowley groaned, “was not my plan for tonight, but you won’t hear me complaining.” He caressed the angel’s face with a trembling hand. “Love me like you think I deserve.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale gave him a remorseful look. “I’m afraid we’d have to go somewhere with less people around for that, but I shall do my very best.” And to stifle Crowley’s confused noises, Aziraphale kissed him. 

First, it was on the lips, then on the forehead, eyelids, along the bridge of Crowley’s nose, his cheeks, chin; there was a pause at his lips again, then the angel’s mouth continued down on the smooth neck, to the collarbone and lower, lower, lower. He kissed Crowley with reverence as if the demon had been something else, something holy, deserving of worship.

He touched, too, soft, elegant hands gliding along Crowley’s angled form, idling at places that made Crowley gasp. 

And there was one more thing, subtle at first; Crowly mistook it to the heat of his own rising pleasure but it grew more intense and simultaneously sharper and softer-

Aziraphale was a creature called into existence to love; and that’s exactly what he was doing right now. His adoration manifested in unseen waves of warmth and joy, washing over Crowley, seeping into his flesh and saturating it, going as deep as his soul to wrap around it, mending hairline cracks, soothing ignored little aches and filling up echoing gaps that needed to be filled. 

Crowley could barely breathe. His corporeal form relished in the tactile stimulation, all the hormones doing their job well, but at the same time his metaphysical being was assaulted with such an intense affection that he felt like bursting, like his feeble mortal shell won’t be able to contain it. Tears rolled down his temples as he stared at the ceiling, unblinking and unseeing; he was making the most pathetic noises, fingers all but ripping the sheets and muscles coiled, tense and yearning for more. 

Mortal and celestial pleasure entwined, it felt like back in Heaven, eons ago, before everything went pear-shaped. 

For maximum corniness, the smart TV in the study flickered to life, accessed the wi-fi, and pulled up a song from Youtube. The melody was loud and clear in the bedroom despite the total absence of speakers; Crowley never believed in them.

Aziraphale paused his blessed work, tilting his head to the side with a puzzled look and Crowley could swear the angel had a few extra eyes and a glimmering halo crowning his curly head. 

“That’s not what you usually listen to,” Aziraphale pointed out, “but it sounds fitting. I like it.” And he went back to the task at hand. 

Crowley was sure he was going to combust, both from the sensations and feelings, a bit of shame mixing into the latter as he mouthed along the lyrics. They indeed fit, they were perfect, like being in Aziraphale’s arms, skin to skin, being loved so intensely, fiercely like hellfire and gently like Heaven’s light.

The angel’s hands glided along long thighs and his lips ghosted over the flat belly, slowly reaching the spot where Crowley normally kept his dick and despite the fact that currently all the equipment was absent, when Aziraphale’s mouth gently sucked at the smooth skin there, Crowley bucked his hips with a yelp, because the body was good at remembering. 

Aziraphale rose then, grabbing Crowley’s ankle and lifting it up, kissing the shimmering black scales covering his feet and Crowley covered his eyes with a whimper because those were scars and an angel was not supposed to find them pretty, not when their own scars only made them prettier.

He didn’t protest though, he had no strength for that, not even when he was pulled up and closer, to sit between Aziraphale’s legs, draped over his shoulders, holding on for dear life. They could feel each other’s hearts beating furiously inside their chests and Aziraphale’s hands were still moving, caressing the base of Crowley’s wings then sliding lower to trace more black scales. And amidst it all, his love still flowed freely, making Crowley drown and he was so, so okay with it. 

The music curled around them, the silly lyrics speaking for both of them. Crowley was grasping Aziraphale’s wings, feverishly hoping that he wasn’t causing any pain but he just had to hold onto something because all this- _light_ inside him was cresting, a pride that stayed humble, a love that remained selfless, a joy that overflowed beyond the point of tears. Aziraphale at least didn’t appear to be in distress; he held Crowley as tight as it was possible, his whisper caressing Crowley’s ear. 

_I’m not afraid anymore_

And Crowley was Falling, but this time it was like falling up. His wings shot up, then spread and he fell, for a blessed eternity but instead of molten sulphur he landed on something soft and he very probably blacked out for a second.

His consciousness resurfaced to panicked yelling and he grunted. 

“Oh thank God, Crowley, are you feeling alright?”

“Peachy,” Crowley groaned, once again borrowing a lovely American term that, in this case, meant ‘I’m dying on all planes except the physical and I’m not entirely sure about that, either’. 

“I thought you were having a heart attack,” Aziraphale fussed, blue eyes wide and glowing with worry. “Are you absolutely sure that you won’t discorporate on me?”

“I’m underneath you,” Crowley pointed out smartly. “No, I’m fine. It was just overwhelming and you’re a bloody idiot.”

Hurt flickered across Aziraphale’s face and Crowley immediately felt like a bastard. 

“This-” he croaked, “is what you think I deserve? I don’t deserve this. I’m a demon and you… you stupid angel, you love me like you love the Almighty!” He choked on a sob. “You shouldn’t- you’re not supposed to!”

“Aah.” Aziraphale laid down, aligning his body over Crowley’s and draping his wings over them like a white canopy. “Then what do you think, what is it that you deserve?”

“Not this,” the demon hiccuped softly, his arms sneaking around Aziraphale, with no intention of letting go anytime soon. 

“Well. Unfortunately, we both know that demons make for rotten judges, so I shall decide what you deserve,” Aziraphale said primly. “You have loved me for millennia. You have performed miracles in my name, you saved me, comforted me and you stood with me when the world was in peril. Sounds like a tremendous job, and honest work deserves a reward.”

“But this is too much!” Crowley protested. “What if God disapproves? Meddling in Their plans is one thing, defying your purpose is another! You can still be cast out and-” His eyes began to shine with fresh tears. “You could Fall and I don’t want you to Fall and _you_ don’t want to Fall, trust me on this one!”

“No one has ever Fallen because they loved, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice was softer than down pillows and he kissed his demon. “I still love the Almighty, but I also love you and my love is not a cup but an ocean. I don’t have to love something less so I could love something else. She will not punish me, I know it now. She loves us. She loves you.” His thumb soothed over Crowley’s brows creasing in confusion. “Had She not answered to you?”

_a threat, a feverish wish, stolen moments out of time on soft sands, a last-ditch effort to avoid the unavoidable_

Crowley opened his mouth, then closed it, blinked twice and finally sighed. “S’pose I can’t argue with that logic.”

Aziraphale smiled brightly. “Soo, how about some sleep? This had been an eventful evening.”

“Ah-” Crowley frowned. “But you haven’t- You gave me so much, I ought to return the favor…”

“You did. Some of your joy bounced right back at me and, um- When you grabbed my wings, that was…. nice.” Aziraphale was blushing faintly. “So don’t worry. It might’ve not been as grandiose as your peak, but I’m satisfied. Though - I’d really love to do it the human way next time. I think I have a few ideas already.”

“I am really too tired for that right now,” Crowley mumbled. “But there’s one thing I still need to do.” He cleared his throat and began to speak in carefully articulated Enochian. 

“Hear me, Aziraphale, Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate… Love of my life. What you freely offer, I shall take it and return it to you in equal measure. May the stars witness me: I am yours for all eternity.”

“Amen,” Aziraphale nodded solemnly. “If that’s alright with you, I’m going to take a nap as well.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

“Crowley-?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Does this cover all those bases and home runs-?”

“Angel,” Crowley snickered. “We’ve covered the entire baseball season.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering, the song the cheeky TV pulls up, because Crowley would NEVER, is Belinda Carlisle's 'Heaven Is A Place On Earth'. I went there.


End file.
